


loyalty

by futile_devices



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/M, between chapter 8 and 9, i dont know how to tag. sorry, whats up my name is ice and i got way too emotional over lyns story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19205086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futile_devices/pseuds/futile_devices
Summary: “i won’t blame you.” she swears.she isn’t lying; she couldn’t, after all. lyn could understand that, on some primal level. survival. lyn could very well be leading them to their own deaths for something that they could live without. they could live on whether she is the lady of caelin or if she had died alongside her mother and father. their lives would be the same. kent would still be a knight of caelin.“but you would not forgive me, lady lyndis, would you?” the knight asks, answering that question in her thoughts that reads ‘but he would not be a knight of caelin without you. not anymore’.





	loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> this is a callout to two of my friends who somehow thought it was a good idea to get me thinking about lynkent again. and so i, played through lyns story last night and i . i forgot about the fact that they were branded as oathbreakers because of it. so heres my take on it
> 
> its been real fe7 hours lately so.

it was becoming a habit of lyn’s to stay up a little longer than she was supposed to. the stars shone rather brightly, she reasoned, and to not look out at them, the one unchanging thing about the changing world, would be a pity. when she was a little girl, lyn thought they must be so lonely, looking down at the world but not being able to go down; to see so much beauty in the land below, but forced to stay in the stars. though, she imagines now, that the sky is not the worst place to be imprisoned in. and there are many stars in the sky, so they can’t be that lonely, not when they are wrapped up in families of constellations. father sky loved his children; he would not make it so that they suffered. he, too, loved looking upon the earth, upon his beloved, but only he had actually met the earth, had loved her, created all the beings on elibe before they were divided.  _ that, _ lyn thinks, is a much lonelier fate that the stars wishing for something they did not know of. 

and she does watch them, for some amount of time, but her attention always turned elsewhere. the first watch was normally taken by kent, ever vigilant and quite eager to fulfil his duties and lyn, who spoke easily and brightly, often took to his company alongside the stars. it had become so much of a routine that lyn did not even try to return to her and florina’s tent, rather finding her place beside or in front of the knight. 

it was better than being alone with her own memories at least. the scene of her mother always seems to return in her sleep, how she writhed in pain, in that violet horror, and how madelyn finally fell limp. lyn sobs into her mother’s body nearly every night and it’s far too exhausting of a memory to repeat and repeat. not when they are so very close to caelin, to victory. 

but therein lies the problem. 

the closer they are too caelin, the higher the stakes rise. no, lyn would never turn around, leave it all for a people she didn’t even know because it was too difficult or too costly. to do so would be to betray herself and her mother and everyone who stood beside her in spite of all odds. yes, that was it, in spite of all odds. 

matthew’s findings were not exactly comforting, after all. 

“you can leave, if you want.” lyn’s voice cuts through the calm night. it isn’t bitter so much as it is factually. it is a statement. not a nice one, not a pretty one, but a truthful one. still, it is far different from the light hearted tone her voice normally takes to. most of their conversations, too, had been of that kind; of simple chatter, lyn asking about caelin (and then her express confusion and distaste) and kent asking about sacae (and watching how her eyes seemed to brighten as those stars that kept their vigil over them) or anything that either of them thought to ask about. lyn sits beside him, this time, shoulders nearly touching, but not quite there. not that lyn notices at all, even with kent being far too aware of it, though that always seemed to be the case. 

it takes a few seconds for kent to respond “… my lady?” 

the implication is not easy to make. not at all. not after everything they had seen together, not after how long they traveled together, not after weeks of staying up alongside the other because it would feel too strange to not share the other’s company. lyn hates even saying it, but she does. lyn is very many things, but she would not keep someone at her side merely because it benefitted her. her honor and pride is far too strong, and her compassion as well. it even fights that tiny well of selfishness that all men are victim to. 

she would never  _ want _ her family to leave. not after she just found it again. lyn would never wish to part with them, with him, because loneliness and tragedy were far too tiring for her youth. they were her stars, her constellations. how could she wish for them to go adrift? but if it were right, if it were better, if it could save their life. if it meant that she would not be their downfall because she had seen death so closely before, then how could lyn not? of course, in the daylight, she might be more confident of their success, of their bonds and strength, but the night always reminded lyn of what was taken away from her.  “you can leave.” lyn repeats, her hand playing with her mother’s ring. “you’re branded traitors now. you got into all of this because of  _ me _ -” it is difficult for lyn to keep the heat of emotion from her voice, which is to say she is completely unable to do it at all. 

it is still difficult to believe that this is all because of her. because her mother had loved someone she wasn’t supposed to and now the world’s near turning upside down. she was just lyn, after all. she wasn’t a lady or a princess or someone who knew what to do with power or the throne. she tried leading, once, when her tribe had been decimated, but no one followed. caelin would not be any different. firstly, she did not want caelin. secondly, she had been increasingly convinced that caelin would not want her either. her grandfather, perhaps, her knights and her legion, yes, but the people? the other nobility? how loudly do araphen’s words ring, and even if they are beside the thought of her, there is still the reality of who and what she is. and that is just lyn of the lorca. 

“yes, i did.” that is very unlike kent, lyn thinks, to interrupt her. being fair, she did not know what else she was going to say, besides the fact that she was going to say it. thinking before speaking was difficult. it was always so easy when everyone expected honesty and only honesty. there’s no need to think if you’re being honest. the facades and artifice and all these little rules that kent often speaks about when he recounts the court of caelin are exhausting and rather useless. kent speaks about it often, yes, and he speaks of her as his lady liege, so it is strange. very strange. “do you think i would leave you after coming this far?” he asks, almost softly. he asks, in complete kindness. he asks, and lyn almost thinks he is shocked. which she thinks is certainly find and a valid response, after all. he might even be insulted that she question his loyalty, not that lyn could quite care about the repercussions of his wounded pride, even if the two had become increasingly close, kent being the first to turn to in any situation. 

lyn follows immediately after, as if the words fly out of her without even processing it. “but its different now! what happens if we lose? you’ll be executed. i cant-”  _ i cant lose anyone else. i cant be alone again. i cant watch you die like i watched my family die. i cant lose you. _ but the emotion runs far too deeply and her rising volume and speed falls flat to silence. 

“if i leave, my lady, you’ll be in greater danger of losing.” he turns to her this time, and lyn can’t quite read his expression. the darkness, perhaps, but lyn knew he was skilled with a blade as he was with controlling his emotions. she liked it more when he smiled though. 

lyn frowns. she knows its true. their forces were small enough, not to mention that she had gotten used to fighting alongside the knight and his steed. “i don’t-” she starts, but can’t find any way to continue after that.  _ i don’t need you to protect me _ perhaps, but she doesn’t say it. “i’ll find a way to do it on my own. i just need to find grandfather.” lyn amends. it was that easy. if she could just- but it wouldn’t be that easy. if it was that easy then they would not be in this situation to begin with. the lady of the plains is far quieter next, far more gentle. “i won’t blame you.” she swears. 

she isn’t lying; she couldn’t, after all. lyn could understand that, on some primal level. survival. lyn could very well be leading them to their own deaths for something that they could live without. they could live on whether she is the lady of caelin or if she had died alongside her mother and father. their lives would be the same. kent would still be a knight of caelin. 

“but you would not forgive me, lady lyndis, would you?” the knight asks, answering that question in her thoughts that reads ‘but he would not be a knight of caelin without you. not anymore’. 

she answers honestly. “no. i wouldn’t. but i don’t think my forgiveness costs your livelihood, kent.” how could it? lyn knows him, more than she ever thought she would have when they first crossed paths in bulgar. she knows the way he holds his lance and the heavy sigh he gives when sain is, well, sain. she knows that he spends far too much time instructing wil and far more training. she knows an embarrassing story that sain had told her about a time where sain had tried to give him  _ advice _ and she knows how his face seemed to match his hair when his companion told it and she knows that she had found it endearing. she knows that he doesn’t care if she will never let go of the sacaen breeze that flows from within her and she knows that he will always listen to her whenever she speaks of home. she would not be the death of someone she cares for dearly. 

“then it isn’t worth it to leave.” kent answers, with no hesitation. “i am your knight, lady lyndis. wherever you lead is where i follow. if that is towards death, then i should find a way to avert it, but i-we will never abandon you.” 

something in that makes her ache. knight and lady seems too cold, too harsh, not telling of the warm nights they have spent together as lyn tells old stories and kent remarks on the day before. something within her aches because it’s honest and true, and some part of that is terrifying. she is just lyn, after all. no amount of loyalty should be someone’s death. there would always be something more to live for; lyn knows this to be true, having lived passed the worst tragedy imaginable. they are friends, aren’t they, regardless of their titles? 

“we will win, my lady. there will be no executions for any of us.” the knight assures when lyn does not find the words to respond. a few seconds pass before he follows, and lyn realizes that he speaks differently sometimes. when he speaks as a knight, as her vassal, and when he slips into only kent, which is far smaller. “you said you wanted to take us to sacae when this is all over. we can’t do that if we are dead or separated.” 

somehow, lyn smiles. she couldn’t ever control when she does. it comes naturally when she pictures it soft. the lady nods. “you’re right. you only saw bulgar, after all. you have to see the sunsets, kent. the grass turns this fire gold and- well, i can’t describe it as well as it looks.” she laughs a little bit. lyn thinks she hears him as well. he is smiling though. 

lyn likes that. 


End file.
